


why bets are no longer allowed in team voltron

by jilliancares



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (((but it gets resolved Obviously))), Anal Sex, Bets & Wagers, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Lingerie, M/M, Mirror Sex, Sex, Sexual Tension, Smut, Switching, Teasing, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-18 03:22:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14203953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jilliancares/pseuds/jilliancares
Summary: Keith and Lance both think that the other is more desperate for sex. A bet ensues, introducing a game in which no one wins and everyone suffers.





	why bets are no longer allowed in team voltron

**Author's Note:**

> it's my birthday!!! as a present from me to you, here is this boatload of smutty goodness i wrote a while ago 
> 
> i'll consider every kudos and comment a birthday present in return ;D <3
> 
> i'm serious this is just.... it's filthy. pls enjoy

Lance was distracted.

To be fair, they were all pretty distracted, though this was in no way Lance’s fault.

Okay — it was _partially_ Lance’s fault, but really, it was totally mostly Keith’s fault. 

Lance cursed as another Galra fighter almost crashed into his side. His thoughts were wandering ridiculously, his attention span sporadic and much shorter than it usually was during battles.

“Can you guys _please_ just make up?” Pidge growled, doing some maneuver that made Voltron karate-chop a hoard of ships out of the sky. They’d formed Voltron a while ago, but the nature of Lance and Keith’s distracted thoughts were ebbing into everyone’s minds over the mental link.

“We’re not fighting!” Keith argued, his voice a low growl over the comm. Oh fuck, Lance hated that voice. And by hated, he meant loved. It sent shivers all the way up and down his spine, and he pressed his ankles and knees and thighs together in an attempt to get himself _under control_.

“Yeah,” Lance agreed hotly. “It’s a _bet_.”

“We know what it is,” Hunk said, sounded exasperated. It took a lot to get Hunk to that point, which was really saying something.

Shiro then chimed in, the good ol’ head of Voltron making his wise input known. “You have to admit it’s affecting the team,” he said. Alright, _not-so-wise_ input.

“Hear that, Keith?” Lance quipped. “You’re affecting the team. Might as well give up already.”

“Fuck you, Lance!” Keith growled, and he took out a huge chunk of the Galra fleet by spewing lava from Voltron’s arm.

Everyone else groaned, sick of their constant fighting and bickering, and Lance had to (silently) agree. He was honestly exhausted by their bet. He wanted it to be over as much as everyone else did, but they were way too far into this for him to just _give in_.

So yeah, this was all Keith’s fault. Both the reason the bet had even begun in the first place along with the reason it had yet to end.

———

It’d all started nearly three weeks ago, Earth time — side note: holy _fuck_ , had it really been that long? Lance wanted Death. Capital D. Trademarked — when Keith had thought it funny to make a silly little comment. A silly, little, insignificant, world-changing, bet-setting comment.

He’d been on top of Lance at the time, the two of them sweaty and pretty delirious if you’re catching Lance’s drift, and he’d bent his head down and groaned into Lance’s neck. “Fuck.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Lance had joked, breathless. “ _Fuck_. C’mon, faster.” 

Keith had rolled his eyes, shaking his head with a grin as he’d picked up the pace, leaning further over Lance and making the both of them gasp at the change in angle. “You’re so — _hah_ — fuck, desperate for it.”

Lance had laughed, his fingers scrabbling against Keith’s back, pulling him in deeper. “Says you,” he’d gasped. 

“You kidding?” Keith had asked, his eyes aglow with a challenge. God, Lance would never understand how he could so easily form complete sentences in bed. A lot of the times it got to the point where Lance was incoherent, practically babbling nonsense into Keith’s ear. “You’re the one who can barely go a night without it.” He’d punctuated this with a particularly hard thrust at the perfect angle, and Lance had _keened_.

“Liar,” he’d panted. “You want it way more than I do. You couldn’t go a week without this.”

“Could too.”

“Could _not_!”

They’d both shut up for a moment, Keith craning down and attacking Lance’s neck as Lance arched, his fingers digging bruises into Keith’s hips as one of his legs curled around him. He’d moaned, loud and long, as Keith had slammed into him hard once, twice more, before they were both shuddering against each other, gasping into one another’s skin as they came down from their high.

A moment or two had passed in quiet, besides from their panted breaths and thunderous heart beats, and then Keith had smirked up at him. “Were you serious about that?” he’d asked.

“‘Bout hmm?” Lance had managed, his brain the equivalent of space food goo. Keith’s body had been so, so warm against his, sweaty and kind of gross, too, but he loved it. He’d held him closer, feeling the sweat dry on their skin.

“When you said I wanted it more.”

Lance had snorted. “Um, yes? Totally.”

Keith had scoffed. “ _Just last night_ you pulled me into bed claiming you were the mayor of Horny Town.”

Spluttering, Lance had corrected him. “It was _Horn City_! And I was the president!”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Also? Not sexy.”

“Sex doesn’t always have to be sexy,” Lance had said. Which was true. He and Keith had plenty of hot, steamy sex — but they just as often had about every other type of sex. Giggly sex, the kind where everything was funny and they were just as intent on making each other laugh as they were to come. Sad sex, when everything kind of weighed down on them too much and they just needed to be as close as possible, going slow and making it last long and laying together for a long time afterwards. They had angry sex, tomorrow’s-a-terrifying-mission-and-tonight-could-be-our-last sex, accidentally-almost-stumbled-into-marriage-on-an-alien-planet sex. Really, if it was a kind of sex to be had, Keith and Lance had probably had it.

“All I’m saying is that there’s no way you could last as long without sex as I could,” Keith had claimed, still lounging on Lance and staring up at him with a mixture of innocence, righteousness, and superiority. 

“Wrong. So wrong. The wrongest wrong to have every wronged —”

“Just admit I’m right!”

“You’re _wrong_!”

“Fine,” Keith had said suddenly, getting this terrible, horribly familiar look in his eye. “Let’s bet on it.”

“Are you serious?”

“When am I ever not serious?” Which, okay. That was a good question.

“You do realize this is going to effect both of us?” Lance said, staring at Keith with an eyebrow raised. Because he _knew_ Lance never backed down from a challenge. He knew that it was like, Lance’s pride on the line. There would be no pussyfooting around with this shit — bets were _kill or be killed_. Okay, not quite that, but just as serious. And deadly.

“ _Duh_ ,” Keith had said.

“Fine. Then it’s on. First one to cave for sex loses.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Hope this was good for you then,” Keith had said, sitting up and away from Lance, who frowned at the loss of body heat. “Since we won’t be having sex until, oh… About two nights from now? When you inevitably cave.”

Lance had thrown his head back and laughed. “Hope it was good for _you_ ,” he’d countered. “Can’t wait to see you come crawling back. No, really — when you can’t wait for it anymore, I want you to crawl. LOSER HAS TO CRAWL.”

Rolling his eyes, Keith had shrugged. “Whatever. If you like crawling so much.”

“I like seeing _you_ crawling.”

“Then prepare to be sorely disappointed,” Keith had said, and he’d leaned forward and kissed Lance deep, his hand trailing down his chest, over his hip, and brushing against his dick, making Lance jerk up a bit. He’d then pulled away, crossing their room and standing in the doorway to their bathroom, beautiful and naked and tantalizing against the doorframe. _Fuck_.

“And to make things more interesting?” Keith had said, his eyebrows raised as if he’d expected Lance to turn down the challenge. Lance had gestured for him to go on, his hand having unconsciously trailed down his body, chasing Keith’s touch. “No masturbating either.” Just like that, Lance had jerked his hand away from himself, burying it in the bedsheets beside him.

“Fine,” he’d said, shrugging nonchalantly. “Totally fine.”

“Really? Because you seem to like to wake up in your morning shower with a nice, slow —”

“NO I DON’T. Shut up! Take your shower!”

And that had been that.

———

Finally back in the castle, the Galra fleet defeated after much too long, both Keith and Lance were on the receiving end of about a million harsh glares. Even the mice looked angry.

“You two are going to get us _killed_ ,” Allura hissed, hands clenched into fists at her sides and hair coming out of its perfect updo.

“Everything’s perfectly under control,” Lance claimed. _Except for the fact that I feel like I’m going to explode and can’t stop thinking about fucking my boyfriend every second of the day._

“It’s not and you know it!” Allura said. “You two need to —” she made a series of complicated gestures between the two, her cheeks growing pink. Everyone knew what the bet between them was — the secret had come out pretty quickly after three days, when the beginning to the never ending torrent of frustration and dissatisfaction had started — and it was something that was, lately, frequently referenced with a growing amount of uncomfortableness. “— _resolve_ this.”

“There’s nothing to resolve!” Lance claimed, wrapping an arm around Keith’s waist to further prove this. Keith stiffened, but then leaned into his touch. Lance wanted to wrap both his arms around him and bury his face in his hair and —

“Ugh! You two are unbelievable!” Pidge groaned in frustration. She was glaring at them, looking exhausted. Lance didn’t blame her, seeing as lately he snuck off to complain and pester his insomniac friend in the middle of the night when he couldn’t seem to fall asleep, Keith’s soft breaths against his neck doing horrible things to his mind and body.

“Seriously,” Shiro said. “If this effects Voltron any further, we’ll have to force you two to…” He trailed off, awkwardly gesturing between them. Lance laughed.

“Uh, okay. Good luck with that.”

“We’ll steal your clothes and shove you in a closet together,” Pidge threatened. “Trust me, it wouldn’t be that hard.”

Lance snorted, unable to _not_ see the innuendo, and his gaze creeped over to Keith, who was glaring hard and trying his darnedest to not look amused.

Oh God, Lance loved him so bad. And he was the fucking Emperor of Hornitopia right now.

There really weren’t a lot of rules to this game of theirs. Other than the the ‘no masturbating’ and ‘loser crawls’ rules — the second of which Lance wasn’t entirely sure was even set in stone — nothing was off-limits. All sorts of trickery had ensued in the last almost-three weeks, during which the both of them had done their best to either entice or trick the other into sex.

Keith, staring deliberately at Lance, would put his hair into a ponytail. Besides looking honestly really attractive, it now held the horrible connotation of — well, Keith always put his hair up before dropping to his knees in front of Lance, and so… Yeah. Sadly, Keith putting his hair up — _coupled with that look in his eye, okay?!_ — had done it for Lance.

Not that Lance wasn’t one to retaliate! He’d taken a shower and emerged from the bathroom in his silky robe, the one that clung to his body in all the right places, especially since he hadn’t bothered to dry off, the robe literally sticking to his skin. With the tie around his waist tied very, very loosely, and the bathroom door open simply to let out the shower’s steam, Lance had propped one foot on the sink and began to lotion up. It wasn’t _his_ fault that Keith had been sitting on the bed across the room, previously reading a book only to be treated to a wonderful show.

And it’d continued on like that. Them stretching for just a moment too long, a shirt rising higher and higher up their stomach; groaning as they rubbed out a sore muscle, a groan that, really, sound way more like a moan…; squeezing past the other in the kitchen for something on the other side of the counter, totally accidentally pressing themselves against the other’s back, their hips aligned; kissing each other a night just a little too deeply, a little too intently…

It was fucking infuriating. 

And God, Keith had fucking woken him up a from a wet dream the other night.

It’d been a really, really good dream too. Lance had just been minding his business, taking a shower after training, and Keith had burst into the shower, claiming he couldn’t do it anymore, that Lance had won. And then he’d been on him, their bodies wet and slippery and _hot_. The shower sex had been going much better than it usually did, neither of them almost falling and bashing their heads in in the process.

Lance had been so close… He’d been arching against the tiled wall, so cold against his back where Keith was hot, the steam from the shower warm. And Keith’s hand had been wrapped around him, tugging him faster and faster as Lance had rocked into it, keening high in his throat, letting out these little pants and gasps as he hurtled towards the edge —

And was shaken awake, gasping into his pillow, rocking his hips _hard_ into the bed, nothing between him and the sheets but his boxers. His hair had been plastered to his forehead and neck with sweat, also pooled in his lower back, and his hips had still been rocking into the sheets below him in a sleepy confusion.

“Just so you know, if you come, you lose,” Keith had crooned, and Lance had turned his head, seeing him smirking down at him, lounging comfortably next to him while scrolling through his space tablet. 

And just like that, Lance had been fully awake, sitting up hastily and gasping into the air, his dick _throbbing_ and begging for his attention. His hands had fluttered to and away from it again and again, his arousal begging for attention, and he’d been unable to help the low whine in the back of his throat.

“Do it,” Keith had said with a casual shrug. “You know you want to. It’s not a big deal.” And _God,_ Lance had wanted to. But he’d gulped down a big breath instead and pressed his palms into his eyes, his hips arching absolutely uselessly into the air.

“I fucking hate youuuu,” he’d groaned. And then he’d climbed out of bed and marched towards the bathroom, though Keith had thrown aside his tablet and hastily followed him.

“What are you doing?” Lance had demanded.

“Making sure you’re not going in there to masturbate?”  
 

“How dare you! I would never cheat!”

Keith had just crossed his arms, clearly not believing him, and glaring, Lance had yanked the shower’s faucet into the ‘on’ position, shoving off the only piece of clothing he was wearing, and stepped under the stream. It’d been fucking horrible, and also the only kind of shower Lance ever took lately. Keith had stood there, looking entirely too smug as Lance had jumped and shivered under the stream. Seriously, _way_ too smug, considering he’d just woken his boyfriend from the wet dream he’d been having beside him. That was fucking hot and like, Lance’s dream. He would kill to witness Keith having a sexy dream, thank you very much.

Post shower and post horrible and aching erection, Lance had jumped out of the shower and into the fluffy towel Keith had lovingly provided. He’d wrapped himself up and shoved himself, shivering and bouncing, his teeth chattering, into Keith’s arms. “V-v-v—vv,” Lance had said, not-at-all exaggerating his chattering-teeth sound effects. “Can’t wait ’til you g-give in and we can have sex again,” he’d said, shivering against Keith. “Mmm, miss you.” He’d kissed the underside of Keith’s jaw, and then his lips, before retreating from the bathroom and back to their bed, still wrapped up in the towel.

“Wha — you’re not sleeping in that, are you?!” 

“Too cold to change,” Lance had said. “G’night.”

He’d woken up with his towel strewn to the side, and also completely alone. Keith had clearly taken himself and his straying eyes elsewhere.

Anyway, Lance had picked up his game after that. He’d decided that there would be no more mercy for Keith, which he continued to enact now, as they all retreated back to their rooms after their too-long mission to shower.

Keith had just barely taken a step into the room before Lance was slamming him against the door, pressing his body against him. Keith made a surprised sound, one that was gasped down as Lance ground down into him, the both of them already almost hard, considering how long it’d been.

“Just give in,” he whispered into Keith’s ear, breath hot and definitely cascading down his neck, considering the way Keith arched desperately into him.

“N-no,” he said defiantly, though he did nothing to move away from Lance. “ _You_ give in.”

“Oh, I will,” Lance hummed, trailing his lips down Keith’s jaw. He wasn’t kissing him, not really, just letting his lips drag against his skin. “As soon as you do.”

Keith groaned, his hands falling on Lance’s chest like he was going to shove him away, except he didn’t. He just arched his neck as Lance trailed down it, breathing hotly against his skin, letting his tongue dart out right above his collarbones.

“Just say the word, baby,” Lance said, his voice low with arousal. “Say the word and I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll suck you off. You want that?”

“Fuck, Lance.”

Lance trailed a hand down Keith’s side, down to his hip, though he didn’t actually touch him where he wanted. That felt a bit too much like cheating. 

“You love it when I suck you off,” Lance said, and now he was working his way back up Keith’s throat, towards his other ear. Keith’s head was turned to the side, making as much room for Lance’s lips as possible. “But this time I’m gonna go so slow. After making me wait this long, I’m gonna really make it last, make you wait until you’re dying for it.”

Keith made the hottest sound, something deep and low in his throat. His eyes were closed, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as his hand clenched in the sleeve of Lance’s jacket.

“I think I’ll kiss you everywhere else, first,” Lance continued, now directly into Keith’s ear. Their entire bodies were pressed together, lined up. Lance was pressing him hard into the door. “I’ll wait until your begging for it, sensitive all over. And then, when you _do_ come, I won’t stop. You’ll be hard again in no time, after how long it’s been. I’ll just keep on going, even when you’re so sensitive it hurts.”

Keith _keened_. He arched against Lance, grinding their hips together two, three times, before he gasped, his eyes flying open and his hands landing on Lance’s shoulders and _shoving_ him. Lance stumbled backwards, suppressing a groan. God _dammit_! He just wanted to fuck his boyfriend already! It shouldn’t be this hard!

Keith was panting. He’d stepped away from the wall, and he had one hand pressing against his arousal, though it seemed absentminded. “Cheating!” he said, in between breaths. “Cheat — that’s cheating!”

“What?! We’ve never had rules!”

“Yeah, because they’re _obvious_. And that’s cheating.”

“You’re making that up!”

“You’re a cheater!”

Lance growled, arousal and frustration and a million emotions in between swirling angrily through his veins. Why oh _why_ did his determination and stubbornness have to rival his horniness? 

Fuming, Lance stomped to the wardrobe and yanked it open, riffling through his side of the closet and digging through the ugly party outfits he would literally never wear.

“What are you doing?” Keith demanded, and Lance ignored him, riffling more vigorously. Finally, he found was he was looking for and yanked it out.

“What’s that?” Keith asked, eyeing the box Lance was holding suspiciously.

“Birthday present,” Lance said. “But I thought I’d give it to you early.”

“I don’t want it —”

“Don’t be rude, Keith!” Lance laughed, blocking the door. “Here, I’ll just show it to you.” He opened the box and pulled out a rubbery, egg-shaped object. He tossed it to Keith, who caught it on reflex.

“What — ?”

Lance grabbed the second part of the present — a remote — out of the box and tossed the box aside, hitting the biggest button on the remote and hearing the vibrator come to life in Keith’s hand. Immediately, Keith’s face went red, and he stared down at the vibrator with longing. He’d told Lance, once, kind of shyly and kind of embarrassed about it, that’d he’d always wanted to try out a vibrator. After leaving Earth, they’d figured that that hope was likely squashed for good, but of course aliens were just as adventurous and sex-savvy as humans, as Lance had found a particularly horrifying but, in the end, helpful sex shop in a space mall.

“Pretty cool, huh?”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Keith said lowly. Lance was grinning. He _had_ to give in now, right? _Right_? But then —

“I’ll give you your present,” Keith said hastily, and Lance groaned.

“Don’t tell me we both got each other sex-themed presents? And _months_ early?” Lance cried, turning around and slapping a hand to his forehead as Keith, too, went riffling through his side of the closet. Real original hiding place, Keith. “God, we are fucking obsessed.”

Behind the closet door, Keith grunted. Lance distinctly heard the sound of clothes hitting the floor. Then he said, “You know, we’re gonna end up having to buy each other new presents.”

“I was planning on doing that anyway,” Lance said, a bit pompously but true, honestly, and Keith just snorted.

Lance finally turned back around, impatient and annoyed and —

 _Fuck_.

His mouth went dry, his eyes bugging out of his head as Keith stepped out from behind the closet door _in lingerie_.

“Oh God,” Lance whined, his voice climbing a handful of octaves. “Oh my — shit, oh my God. You’re killing me, babe.” Keith cocked his hip, smirking, though his cheeks were dusted the cutest pink. His outfit — God, if you could call it that — was just, it was — _fuck_. First of all, black? Totally Keith’s color. Also, lace? The only thing Keith should've ever be seen wearing ever again. Ever.

It was… He was… 

Lance shook his head, trying to organize his thoughts. And then he decided to just… to just let his eyes, roam. There was no stopping them, really, and he didn’t exactly want to try, either. 

Keith knew he looked good. It was obvious from the way he stood and the look on his face, probably growing more and more cocky at Lance’s obvious braindead-ness. 

He was wearing these stockings, see-through and tight and exactly what stockings were, it was just — they were on _Keith_. And little straps connected them to his lacy underwear, which hid absolutely nothing. And then there were the shiny — leather? — suspenders, the only thing even bothering to cover Keith’s chest. Finally, overwhelmingly: Keith was wearing goddamn heels. They were red, and Keith was standing in them easily, as if he’d tried them on before, had practiced walking in them already. Fucking fuck fucking _fuck_ Lance was going INSANE.

Hastily, he turned back around, realizing he couldn’t keep staring at Keith without jumping his bones. He shoved his head into his hands and groaned loudly.

“I want to fuck you,” he whined. There was the _click, click, click_ of Keith’s heels as he walked towards Lance, and Lance did nothing to prevent it. Keith came to a stop behind Lance and rested a chin on his shoulder, now taller than him. His whole front pressed against Lance’s back, his arousal hard and obvious against Lance. His hands skimmed over Lance’s stomach, too, trailing lower and lower.

“You can,” Keith said. “You don’t even have to undress me. You can take me like this, if you want.”

“Oh God,” Lance whimpered. He leaned back against Keith, who held his weight easily, even in heels. His fingers were inching under the waistband of Lance’s jeans.

“Just give in,” Keith whispered, his tongue trailing along the shell of Lance’s ear and sending shivers all the way down his body. “Just say I win. Say I win, Lance. I’ll even crawl for you, if you want.”

“ _Keith_ ,” Lance groaned, arching into absolutely nothing, and he bit his lip, clamping back on the words, _I give, I give, I give, just — please! I need you!_

“C’mon, Lance,” Keith said, practically _begged_. But he wanted it as much as Lance did, was as close to giving, to breaking, as Lance was. He couldn’t give up now, not when he’d lasted this long, wasted this much time not having sex with Keith. 

So he leaned his head back on Keith’s shoulder and held onto his resolve with figurative but shaking fingers. Lance said, “When you give, Sweetheart, I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll feel it for days.”

Keith gasped into his ear, his hands — still creeping into Lance’s pants teasingly — trembling. Keith loved dirty talk, always turning malleable and sloppy because of it. They were both pulling out all the stops, pushing and pulling each other, giving their all into breaking one another.

They were literally shaking like leaves against one another, weak all over and desperate, so desperate…

Lance lost it. His mind was full of Keith in lingerie, Keith’s hands on him, Keith’s body against his back, and he turned in Keith’s arms just as Keith started shoving at him, trying to turn him around to face him. This resulted in Lance spinning so fast he almost got whiplash, though that barely mattered as they were both surging into each other at once, crashing together and groaning and gasping against each other’s mouths, hands running all over, touching everything they could reach.

“Fuck,” Lance panted against Keith, who was grinding against him hastily. Lance was touching him, touching him, touching him, his bare chest, his silky underwear, the soft material of his stockings. “Who — who lost?”

Keith shoved his face into Lance’s neck, a little too busy to answer. Finally, he managed to pant, “ _Both of us_. We haven’t had sex in _three goddamn weeks!"_

And that, honestly, was the fucking truth. Keith was still grinding against him like crazy, panting loudly, and Lance was all for it but he had a way better idea, really, and so he steered Keith into the bathroom, the two of them still kissing and tripping over themselves all the way.

Once in the bathroom, Lance immediately stripped out of all of his clothes, getting the hard part out of the way. And then he was shoving his hand into a drawer, coming out triumphant with their trusty Emergency Shower Lube.

“Oh God, yes,” Keith was saying, pulling Lance against him. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me —”

Lance cut him off with a kiss, expertly coating his fingers in lube as he did. He reached behind Keith, hiking one of his legs up and around Lance’s hip, and then he was shoving Keith’s lacy underwear aside and wasting no time in fingering him, Keith groaning into his mouth.

God, he was so tight. It’d been three weeks, three whole fucking weeks, and Keith was trembling against him, moving against his fingers eagerly.

“‘M ready,” Keith said, despite Lance having not stretched him for very long at all, but Lance believed him. Plus, maybe he really did want to feel this for days, just like Lance had promised…

Keith reached up to kiss him again, but Lance had a better idea, a more fun idea, and so he indulged him in the kiss for a moment or two before pushing him away and spinning him around. He met Keith’s gaze in the mirror for a moment, a flicker of understanding in Keith’s eyes, before he crowded up behind him and bent him over the sink, still staring straight into his eyes.

“Fuck,” Keith said, and Lance smirked, quickly coating himself in lube before lining up with Keith.

“Sure you’re ready?”

“If you don’t fuck me right this very second…” Keith warned, and that was good enough for Lance. He pressed into Keith, slow and steady and _aching_ , and Keith moaned lowly, squeezing around Lance. His head hung between his shoulders, his hair hanging in front of his face, and Lance absolutely wasn’t having any of that.

He reached forward and grabbed Keith’s chin, tilting it up until he was looking at Lance in the mirror again. 

“I want you to watch,” Lance instructed, and he finally pulled out and pushed back in again, reveling in the way Keith’s eyes couldn’t help fluttering closed. “I want you to see everything,” Lance continued. “Don’t even watch me, just watch you. Look at how good I make you feel, at how blissed out you’ll look.”

Keith groaned, but he obliged, staring at Lance for a moment before his eyes flickered to himself, watching in the mirror as Lance started moving in earnest, bent low over Keith and thrusting into him, picking up speed. The bathroom was filled with the smacking sound of their bodies, along with their pants and groans, their gasps and whimpers. Keith’s eyes were wide, locked on himself in the mirror as he jolted forward again and again with the force of Lance’s movements.

“Lance, God — faster!” he said, and Lance wasted no time in obeying, going faster and harder as well, pushing deep into him, over and over, the angle just perfect when Keith started _whimpering_.

But he could make this better. He slowed down for a second, mentally apologizing when Keith made a desperate kind of sound, and he reached down and pulled up Keith’s leg, until his knee was on the sink with the rest of his body and he was spread out so wide —

Lance dove back in, fucking him harder, the angle even better, and Keith’s mouth fell open, his eyes going glassy in the mirror as he let out this filthy little sounds every time Lance pushed in. He was drooling, it looked like, saliva spilling down his chin, and Lance moaned, fisting a hand in Keith’s stocking, his other one diving into Keith’s underwear, taking his cock in hand.

“I’m so close, baby, tell me you’re close,” Lance said, his thrusts losing rhythm a bit as he grew closer and closer to his climax.

“Fuck, Lance!” Keith moaned. “Yes! Yes, yes, yes yes yes —”

Keith came, soiling his underwear and coating Lance’s hand, all the while squeezing tightly around Lance’s cock. In the mirror, he’d finally had to stop looking at himself, having shoved his face against the sink, his hands slippery and sweaty against the marble, as he shook and shivered underneath Lance.

And that was enough for him. He came inside of Keith, pleasure exploding through him like a match thrown in gasoline, his fingers scrambling for purchase against Keith’s body, accidentally smearing his mess over his own chest as he clung on, gasping as he shook, coming for _so long_ —

Finally, everything stopped. They were still pressed together, he was still inside of Keith, and they were breathing so loudly the whole bathroom practically echoed with it.

“Unghh,” Keith groaned, slowly moving his leg to rest back against the ground, rather than bunched up underneath him.

Lance imitated him, slowly pulling away and sliding out of Keith, who made a small noise of discomfort as he did. And then, Keith straightened up, his wince clearly visible in the mirror. Lance pressed forward and kissed his shoulder, the back of his neck.

“Sorry,” he said.

“No, it’s good,” Keith assured him, though he frowned in disgust as he pulled his underwear away from him, the mess inside now cold and sticky. 

Lance helped him undress, rinsing a towel under warm water for him and holding out a hand when he balanced on one foot and took the heel off the other.

Finally, with both of them naked and as clean as they could get without actually showering, Lance dragged Keith back to the bed and burrowed them both beneath the sheets, tugging his boyfriend close and pressing kisses all over his face.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he said, nose, cheek, forehead, mouth, mouth, mouth.

“Mmm,” Keith hummed, sated and warm. His eyes were closed, and his lips were pulled up into a smile. “I love you too.”

“Let’s never do something that stupid again,” Lance decided, hand now buried in Keith’s hair, playing with the strands in a way he knew felt good, knew Keith loved.

“Agreed,” Keith said, before turning into Lance and burying his face into his chest. He groaned. “I can’t believe I woke you up that night. It was really fucking hot…”

Lance laughed, the force of his laughter disrupting Keith, though he didn’t complain, instead just pressing kisses to Lance chest.

They fell asleep, the most relaxed they had been in far, far too long.

The next morning, they’d taken only half a step into the kitchen before Pidge took one look at them and cried, “ _Thank God_!”

Allura officially requested that they never go longer than three days without “sexual intercourse” again. Lance frowned so hard it hurt and informed her that, because of that comment alone, he didn’t think he’d be feeling up for sex for at least another three weeks. Allura, normally a master of controlling her expressions, looked horrified.


End file.
